Rites of Passage
by you-noia
Summary: Not for the first time, Bruce has taken someone under his wing and offered her a chance to leave her criminal lifestyle. Now he has another teen to look after along with Damian, who isn't particularly fond of the meta human. While Jess is determined to prove her worth and tolerate the younger Wayne, a bigger threat looms on the horizon. But what could be worse than family feuds?
1. Prologue

**Note:** So I've been playing a lot of Injustice 2 lately and read the first 2 volumes of the first Injustice comics, thus becoming super inspired to write something loosely based on the storyline. I'm still somewhat new to DC comics and I did my best to research the important canon characters that'll be in this, so forgive me if there's anything off in character personalities/timelines, etc!

At any rate, this is my own take on the Injustice series and I'll be condensing a lot of what happened in the 5+ years of its timeline, scrapping some events and adding others. I don't believe what I write will be enough to stand as a fic under the video game category on this site, especially since a lot of this centers around Bruce and Damian.

But pls let me know what you guys think, and thanks for reading xx

* * *

 **Prologue**

"It's been two months, Jessica."

Bruce Wayne's tall, wide figure filled the bedroom doorway as he leaned against the frame, arms crossed. He was dressed smartly in a dark grey suit, looking prepped for another scheduled interview, but the loosened navy blue tie around his neck signaled the end of the day.

The room was modest for a two-bedroom apartment in Gotham and the decorations were scarce with only a calendar hanging by the door, not having been changed for six months. A queen bed positioned against the far wall bore red and white bedding that was hastily made, and a wide dresser made of dark wood stood adjacent to it. The spot that used to be reserved for picture frames was empty and had been taken up by newspaper clippings and books.

Across the room stood a desk made of the same wood with evidence of a stressed, uncaring owner: an unclosed laptop, scattered paperwork, pens that had yet to roll towards the floor, and a half-burned candle that only somewhat smelled like cloves. A small pot housed a plant that had died weeks earlier.

Though it was out of Bruce's view, the walk-in closet was more or less as messy. It wasn't completely full like it used to be; about half of the clothing had long been taken and stuffed into cardboard boxes so that they would be out of sight and, hopefully, out of mind.

The girl who lived there stood at the window, her hazel eyes staring unseeingly into the side streets of the city. The knitted sweater she wore was too large and her jeans were ripped at the knees.

Her dark hair was clean and pulled back into a ponytail and the dark circles beneath her eyes had faded, yet this was the best she'd looked in nearly a year.

"Two months since what?"

She didn't remove her gaze from beyond the window, her voice low and almost monotone.

Bruce gave no reply and continued to watch her from the doorway, knowing he had to tread carefully.

"Two months since what, Bruce?" Jess finally glanced over, meeting the man's eyes. "Since you had Big Belly Burger? Since we saw one shred of a positive headline in the news?"

Her voice began to rise but she stopped herself, swallowing hard. "It's been a lot longer than that," she added quietly.

He'd been visiting her frequently since the downfall of world governments and the One Earth's uprising, and thus watched the girl go through months—at times, it felt like years—of pain and suffering… from betrayal and confusion. It had started out with him having to comfort her through tears, letting her scream at him, struggling to find the right words.

Bruce had witnessed these repeated moments of Jessica being broken, distraught, angry, and tried what he could to fix her. It wasn't until about a few months ago that he realized she was only reflecting the same emotions he'd felt since Clark had turned his back. The only difference was that Jessica became consumed by the feelings of betrayal and desperation… and Bruce was too hardened and much better at keeping them at bay.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped further into the room, eyes sweeping over the bedroom. "He asked for you yesterday."

There was tension in her neck as she clenched her jaw, telling Bruce that she couldn't continue the false pretense of ignorance.

"He can keep asking," Jess deadpanned before going to sit on the edge of the bed. "I already told you, Bruce. I don't see any point in it anymore."

"Then why don't you tell him that?"

She shook her head as she played with the frayed seam on her jeans. Her patience had worn thin a long time ago, Bruce could tell, but he knew that she'd been acting stubborn for a reason.

"Maybe it would be easier if I just stopped coming and he realized sooner than later that… there isn't anything left anymore."

The multi-billionaire joined her at the edge of the bed, keeping about a yard of distance between them. He wished she'd look him in the eye, something she'd had trouble doing in the last several months.

"Jess, if you just stop showing up and—"

"I don't owe him an explanation, Bruce," she retorted, raising her head to meet his gaze. The annoyance had broken through her facade. "He _knows_ that I've been struggling with this and that's exactly why I can't do it anymore. I'm trying, but I'm not succeeding." Jess paused and then added, "I'm just fooling myself and so is he."

Bruce was quiet for a moment, considering his words carefully. She hadn't yelled at him in a long time but it didn't mean the girl still wasn't a fragile, ticking bomb.

"I know you don't owe him anything, Jessie," he began and watched her flinch slightly at the name she hadn't been called for a while, "but I think you owe yourself some closure. If you want to walk away from this, then do it. I'm not going to stop you."

She didn't answer, so he took it as a sign to continue. "You deserve better than this and I know damn well he would agree with me. Do whatever you have to do, Jess, but you have to heal… _properly_ this time."

Bruce allowed moments to pass, hoping the words were sinking in, before deciding his work there was done. He stood from the bed and looked at the young woman he'd considered to be a daughter. It pained him to see the repercussions of the world taking ahold of her, claiming her as another victim among many, but not even Alfred had to tell him that he was never going to bring her back to the way she'd been before.

"You know how to reach me if you need me."

He was sure he'd be back there in that apartment within the next few weeks or so, but Bruce still glanced around as he approached the front door as if to memorize all the details. To this day he still wondered if he would stop by to see that she'd packed up and left.

The car beeped as he unlocked its doors. He reached for the handle and then heard his name.

Jess was standing at the main door that opened up to the apartment building. "What's your schedule like for the rest of the day?"

Something like relief eased the tension in his chest and Bruce waved towards his passenger seat. "We can head there right now."

She nodded and headed down the steps. "It's been a while since I've sat in this seat," she mused while buckling her seatbelt.

Bruce didn't say anything but he guessed that they were both thinking the same thing: it could very well be the last time they went together to Stryker's.

* * *

She could have navigated Lex Luthor's meta-human prison blindfolded and it wouldn't have been a problem.

Even after having traveled its halls and walked the same path hundreds of times, Jess couldn't help but feel like this one time was different. The same shiny, reinforced walls greeted her and the air was slightly chill (the air conditioning had never changed in all the times she'd visited), but… she felt like she would never see the inside of this place again.

Bright fluorescent lighting illuminated her and Bruce as they headed deeper within the complex. Stryker's had always looked too high-tech and steely for a prison, but then there was the fact that it wasn't a normal prison for normal criminals.

"You alright?"

Jess looked over and met Bruce's subtle but inquisitive gaze. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I just… never mind."

She felt pathetic for not having a better response but she knew that the man wasn't judging her.

Up ahead was a set of wide, heavy sliding doors. Beyond them, Jess recognized the figures of Jaime, Jason, and Professor Stein. They were leaving a hallway that led to the holding cells and appeared to be in deep discussion.

Jaime was the first one to notice the other two. The mask on his bright blue suit retracted, revealing his kind smile. "Hola, Mr. Wayne and Jess. Long time no see."

Jess and Bruce stopped in front of the small group and Jess offered a small smile in return. "Hey, Jaime."

"Wow, I'm surprised you're here," Jason spoke up, raising his brows. "I thought you weren't going to ever come back."

Normally a comment like that would've had her eyes rolling, but instead the teenager's insensitivity got under her skin for once. Before Jess could even find the strength to form a response, Jaime was elbowing Jason and Professor Stein cleared his throat loudly.

"It's good to see you again, Jessica," the older man said kindly.

"Thanks, Professor. You too."

Jason gave her an awkward (perhaps apologetic?) smile before being shuffled along by Jaime. Jess and Bruce continued on, neither one of them mentioning what had just happened.

The doors slid open with a mechanical whoosh and they approached the first door on the right, which was manned by a heavily armed guard. Bruce exchanged nods with the man who opened the door and let the two walk in.

The visiting room was split in half by a glass wall that separated prisoners and visitors. There were five spots, all empty, with six-foot-tall dividers on each side for privacy. Each booth had a phone that hung on the left where useless conversations and pleas for forgiveness were made.

Jess took the seat against the far wall, the one she'd always sat in, and barely flinched at the cold metal that she could feel through her jeans.

"I'll be outside," Bruce said before the metal door shut with a metal clang.

Suddenly her hands were clammy. During the car ride, she had turned over in her head the words she'd say, all the possibilities and the questions and the answers... She would be strong and disobey her heart for once.

Now that she was approaching the dreadful moment, everything had gone out the window and her mind was blank.

On the other side of the glass, another door opened.

Damian Wayne entered the room and as usual, he was wearing the white and orange uniform that marked his identity as a prisoner.

His short dark hair was slightly disheveled, though Jess knew he wouldn't have agreed if she'd told him so. He'd always said that short hair couldn't be messy, and that had given her a free pass to run her fingers through it whenever she wanted, even if it annoyed him.

"Like you said, short hair can't get messy," she'd tease.

Damian's gaze landed right on Jess and the change in his eyes was instantaneous. The confusion morphed into relief as if he'd been expecting someone else. The guard who'd let him in took his post near the door as Damian took the seat across from Jess.

He reached for the phone on his side and so did she.

"Jess."

Hearing him say her name hurt and she hated that it did. It was stupid, but perhaps that was to be expected when she hadn't heard his voice or seen his face in months.

Damian was staring at her through the glass. "I thought... You haven't—I didn't think you were coming back."

Taking a deep breath, Jess forced herself to meet his gaze. "Yeah, I didn't think I was either."

"Why didn't you choose to see me in person?"

She had to take a moment to consider her words. "I didn't think that was best."

The briefest look of pain flashed across his face as he said, "What? Why not?"

She'd offended him but Jess knew that there was a reason she'd asked Bruce to see Damian in this specific room. After some time visiting him, he'd earned the ability to see visitors in a more open and accessible room that wasn't divided by glass. They'd been able to actually sit at a table and _be together_.

But this time, it couldn't be that way. Jess knew that if they were sharing the same space, the same air, and were close enough to touch... It would be over for her resolve, or what was left of it anyway.

"I just can't, Damian," Jess said finally, wishing she didn't have to explain herself.

It had been a disaster, the first time she'd come to see him. They'd broken out into a verbal fight within these walls and Bruce had had to drag her out. For the following weeks, she would attempt to get answers, arguing with Damian and growing exhausted from it.

Eventually, when they'd started seeing each other in person, they began holding much more civil conversations while she wondering how he was living in such a place.

But he wasn't.

Jess knew Damian and he didn't have to say anything for her to see he was dying to leave. Even now as he gazed at her from the inside, she could tell he was yearning to be closer... as was she.

"I thought you said you'd forgiven me," Damian said, running his eyes over her face.

"I did. I _have_."

"Then why haven't I seen you in months?"

Jess swallowed, fighting the lump in her throat threatening to choke her. Damian didn't look angry, not the way he did the first several weeks. No, he looked... disappointed and hurt, like someone who'd been left behind. Someone who just needed answers.

She pushed against them, but those wretched feelings of guilt and the need to protect him inched into her conscience. They had consumed her for a long time after Damian was captured and locked up here, and Jess had found herself in mental and emotional shambles, trying to figure out how to love and understand him but be angry at the same time.

He'd grown up with one of the most unimaginable childhoods Jess could fathom and she'd met him while he was on a broken path to redemption, trying to make Bruce proud.

Then they'd fallen in love and he joined Superman's regime, aiding in his prejudiced tirade against evil and injustice.

Now they were here, on separate sides of the war and the glass.

"I couldn't decide if I wanted to see you ever again," Jess responded quietly, meeting his gaze. "Yes, I've forgiven you and finally started letting go of what happened, but..."

"But what?"

Jess took a deep breath. "That doesn't mean we're ever going to be the same again, Damian."

"We said we'd work past this," Damian insisted leaning forward. His tone held frustration and Jess had a feeling it'd grow more desperate and angry. "We said we would move on and learn from our mistakes."

And they had. They'd spent hours and hours fighting about who was right or wrong, morality and justice, which side of the war was the "better" side, trying to see eye to eye... It had taken a wile for Damian to admit that he was regretful for how his actions had affected their relationship. Jess knew that their world was dangerous but she'd always felt like she was in Damian's life for a reason: to keep him grounded and see things through a lens that he'd never glanced in as a child.

"But that's all we did," Jess replied firmly. "All we've done is talk and talk in this prison but at the end of the day, what does that really mean? _Nothing._ "

She regretted it the moment the words left her mouth. Damian looked away, the hand holding the phone clenching hard enough that his knuckles turned white. Moments passed, Jess's heart thudding loudly, and then he finally looked back up at her.

"So after all this time... you're walking away?"

His voice was low but the pain was there. She had never wanted to hurt him despite everything he'd done, but maybe Bruce was right.

Trying to keep her voice even, she answered, "I have to... for myself." He didn't respond, so Jess willed herself to continue, knowing she had to get the words out before the tears did. "I've tried for months, Damian, to stay here. For you. You and I both know how hard it was for us to even have a conversation without someone getting hurt or crying or..."

She paused to take a breath since her throat was feeling tight. "I thought we'd come to an agreement, too, and you're right, we talked about it and we made a plan and said we would stick together through this—"

"Then what changed?" Damian raised his voice, not to Jess's surprise. "We were doing fine, Jess, and now you're deciding to just give up?"

" _We_ changed, Damian!"

The sudden outburst startled them both. Jess breathed heavily, her blood pressure having skyrocketed, and Damian stared at her for a long moment before leaning back in his chair.

Her eyes stung with oncoming tears but she pushed on. "We are not the same people we were years ago! You betrayed your father, you betrayed me, and that... that destroyed us." Damian stayed silent but Jess could see that her words were digging deep. "I know that we tried to compromise and to understand each other, but you've been here for too long, Damian.

For the longest time, I couldn't eat and I couldn't sleep. Bruce came to see me every other day to make sure I wasn't missing or dead or insane, and sometimes... sometimes I wish I was."

"Jess..."

She shook her head, not wanting to let him speak. All the emotions that she'd thought had run their course were making a comeback, overwhelming her and bringing physical pain to her entire being. Angry tears rolled down her face and she almost couldn't see Damian through the blurriness.

"Don't you get it? We've been fooling ourselves. You've been locked up in here and I've spent my time waking up alone and confused and still coming to see you, to talk, to feel like there was hope for us.

So what if we thought we were on a path to being together again, to being okay…? I don't want to be okay, Damian," Jess said, wiping hastily at her face. "I want us to go back to the way we were, and that's just not going to happen. Ever."

He was crying. He had never usually been one to shed tears for too many reasons to be named, but the fact that there was wetness on his cheeks spoke volumes.

"I'm sorry, Jess," Damian nearly whispered. "I thought we would... I thought you wanted to wait until I got out and—"

"I can't wait anymore," she interrupted, shaking her head. "I've spent so much of my time being naive and pathetic, waiting for my criminal boyfriend to get out of jail."

Damian flinched but she knew it was the truth, one that had to be said aloud.

"I admire Bruce for being as patient as he could while trying to raise you... while you tried to redeem yourself and change your ways," Jess continued. "If only I had that same patience."

"But you _do_ , Jess! You've stuck with me all this time to be here for me and to salvage what's left of us." Damian reached out to touch the glass, his eyes shiny with tears and desperation. "How can you throw all of what we had away? After all the work we've done to stay together?"

She couldn't do it anymore. She wasn't going to listen to him ask her to stay, to consider everything they'd been through. If there was any chance that she would actually be strong and do something for herself, it was now.

Jess felt more hot tears slide down her face as she reached to put her hand over Damian's. The glass separated them but it was the closest they'd get. "I've always loved you as much as I possibly could," she began, her voice shaking. Damian opened his mouth to protest but she went on. "But I can't be here for you anymore, Damian... I'm sorry."

As she proceeded to hang up the phone, Damian called for her. "Jess. Jess, wait!"

 _Just keep walking. Don't stop._

She rapped her knuckles against the door and it opened, revealing Bruce.

"We can talk this through! Jess, please! Jessica!" Damian's voice broke and so did Jess's composure. Her shoulders shook with sobs as Bruce wrapped her in an embrace as if to hold her together.

The door shut with the same heavy clang and Damian Wayne's pleas were cut off, leaving the two in an empty hallway that echoed with her cries.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: New Beginnings**

They met by accident in the streets of Gotham.

The rain poured hard, soaking any dry civilian in a matter of seconds. The sky was a bluish black canvas and most of the city was asleep, tucked into bed behind closed and locked doors.

Only the mischievous were awake at this time, and two masked heroes scoured the rooftops to catch them.

Batman had come across a lead on a notorious gang that had quickly risen to power over the last several weeks. They'd been leaving a trail of unusual witnesses—sometimes bodies—in their wake of armed robberies, kidnappings, and drug trafficking. Many of the injuries ranged from skin boils to heart attacks, but the most recent incident had left the owner of a jewelry store with an aneurysm.

The lead allowed Batman and his son to track down the gang to their next hit near a rundown neighborhood in eastern Gotham. Before the man sleeping peacefully in his one-bedroom apartment could be disturbed, the dynamic duo had intercepted them.

Unfortunately, the five masked gang members knew what they were doing. Not new to escape tactics and even some hand-to-hand combat, the group split up, forcing Batman and Robin to chase them in opposite directions.

Landing effortlessly onto the pavement below, Robin sprinted after the three masks and was soon in the midst of flying punches and kicks. Even in the pouring rain his skill and accuracy usually never faulted, but tonight was an exception. He'd been arguing with his old man earlier that day about the same damn things they usually bickered about and it had grated his nerves since.

So when he saw the hooded figure standing yards away, his focus shifted from incapacitating the men.

Standing there in an alleyway among the injured gang members, Robin squinted through the sheet of rain. The figure pulled back the hood, revealing a girl with wide, panic-stricken eyes. She had to have been around his age. Her gaze flickered between him and the coughing men on the ground.

"What are you waiting for?" one of them suddenly shouted.

Robin first thought the man was taunting him to kill them. If he was... well, it wouldn't have been hard to do, and it probably wouldn't have sat on his conscience the way it would have on his father's.

Still, Robin opened his mouth to say something snarky, but then he heard: "No."

The girl's eyes were still wide as she stared at him... almost as if she were afraid of him. "I told you... no one innocent."

 _Wait... she was_ with _these guys?_

In his momentary confusion, Robin didn't see the angry reaction of the masked man to his right. With a yell, he lashed out and sliced at Robin's thigh, earning a cry of pain from the teen.

"Go!" he heard as the gang members scrambled to their feet.

Hot, stinging pain radiated through his leg and he fell to his knees. Instinctively, he reached for his waist, wanting to fling a round of birdarangs, but then he saw a pair of tennis shoes on the wet, cracked pavement.

The girl stood before him, worry creasing her brow. "Don't move," she commanded and knelt down towards him. Her tone wasn't threatening but Robin still forced himself onto his feet away from her.

The movement was a mistake; he buckled at the knees again onto his backside, splashing into a puddle. He gritted his teeth in frustration, determined to finish what he and Batman had come here for.

"Please." She moved towards him cautiously with her hands out, rain dripping down her face and dark hair.

This time, Robin didn't move. (Later, when he would think back on this scene, he wouldn't know why he even did let her near him.) He watched as she held her hands above the bleeding gash in his leg, closing her eyes. What was she doing?

Suddenly, the pain dissipated. He looked down at the wound and, in disbelief, watched as the skin grew back together, sealing the bloody four-inch gap. The stinging agony was no longer there and had reduced to a faint throbbing.

"Hey! What are you doing?! Come on!"

Robin looked up to see that one of the men was at the end of the alley, apparently waiting for the girl.

She opened her eyes and glanced quickly over at the man before looking back at Robin. For a brief moment, it seemed like she wanted to say something, but then she was on her feet and running, splashing with every step.

Sitting on the ground, fully soaked and in shock, Damian Wayne stared after her until she disappeared into the rain.

If only he'd known that it wouldn't be the last time she would heal him.

* * *

Fast-forward to six weeks later, and Damian and Jessica Fairchild were friends... sort of.

After the alleyway encounter, he and his father had discovered that the girl was a meta-human who had run away from a shelter in Central City the year before. An orphan with no known relatives at all, she'd found refuge in a so-called family that turned out to be heavily involved in crime and gang-related activity in Gotham. Once they'd realized what she could do with living things, how she could inflict pain in the very cells of a human being or heal the wounded, they decided to use her as a weapon in their operations.

Batman and Robin were eventually able to track down and turn in the gang members, but not without confronting Jessica.

Why had she helped him when she was clearly associated with criminals? Why didn't she do whatever they had demanded from her?

These questions had sat on Damian's mind since their encounter, and after discovering her background, his father suggested that maybe she wasn't a ruthless, unforgiving gangster like the ones who surrounded her... It turned out that he was right.

The "family" had threatened to take her back to Central City, back to the shelter that she'd hated so much, or worse... cover up their tracks and sell her out to the GCPD for the damage she'd inflicted. Though Jessica had nothing left to lose, she'd been scared.

"Joining them was my best option at the time," she'd told Batman and Robin. "Now I can see it was actually the worst."

Unsurprisingly, Batman saw that she was worthy of a second chance. At eighteen years old, Jessica had nowhere else to go unless she was able to find another household that was willing to take her in (and hopefully not be part of a secret gang) or find a place on her own. So a deal was made: she had to be put into a private school and maintain good behavior long enough to prove that she wanted a better way of life.

Damian hadn't known what to think of it. The generous act wasn't uncharacteristic of Bruce, but it also made him wonder about their constant fights over different ideologies. Bruce sat on a high horse of morality and a no-killing policy while Damian had an upbringing by the League of Assassins in his blood (literally, via his mother). Meeting Jessica had triggered somewhat of cognitive dissonance in the young assassin-turned-hero; she had left people in pain while working with the gang, had even gone so far to leave a few with conditions so fatal they ended up dying... but at the same time, she was barely an adult, like him. She'd been stuck in a situation that she felt she couldn't escape but at the first sign of redemption, she'd taken it.

If anything, Damian really couldn't judge her, could he? It wasn't like he wasn't doing the same thing, fighting as Robin alongside his father.

Time progressed and her behavior improved. Still, while Jess and Damian somewhat tried to foster an innocent, friendly connection, their differences in backgrounds and personalities clashed. To her, Damian was too pretentious, entitled, ungrateful... and to him, Jess was the same but for other reasons. She thought he was a spoiled brat that needed an attitude adjustment while he could see the way she looked to Bruce as if he was her father and savior.

Soon enough, Jess asked to be shown how to better defend herself and learn more about the powers she'd been given. She had learned basic street knowledge and combat during her time with the family gang, but if she really wanted to do better things with her life and shape up, learning more actively was on her list... Bruce hadn't intended on officially adopting her nor did he fully consider training her or even helping master her powers, but much to Damian's dismay, he agreed.

Less than a year later, Jess was skilled enough to hold her own in combat. Of course, she wasn't as good as Damian, who had training under his belt that she would never acquire, but hours of training in the Batcave and out in the field had at least forced them to learn to work together (but not necessarily get along).

It was unfortunate that, considering the events that were going to unfold in the near future, it would feel like nothing could prepare Jess for the biggest fight of her lifetime.

* * *

 **Note:** I know the second half was a little wordy but the purpose was to give a briefing on the beginning of Jess's new life, so hopefully it wasn't a COMPLETE bore lol.

Thanks for reading, don't forget to drop a review :D


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Curiosity**

The sounds of grunts and sharp metal slicing through the air bounced off the walls in the Batcave. Damian and Jess were sparring, the former assassin wielding a shiny katana and the meta, a pair of katars.

Most teenagers would be out catching a movie or doing other normal, teenage things on a Friday night, but these two weren't part of that crowd. Even Bruce had suggested they take a night off to go "have fun or whatever you teens do nowadays," but Jess had insisted on working on her martial arts. As for Damian... well, social activities didn't have a place up there on his list of proficiencies.

"Oof!"

Jess was on her back on the gym mat, the point of Damian's sword just inches from her face. He raised a brow at her before pulling it back and twirling it effortlessly between his fingers. With a huff, Jess got to her feet and bent to grab the katars that had fallen beside her. She tried not to wince at the various aches and pains her body had accumulated.

This was the fourth time in a row she'd lost to him while sparring and her determination to beat him was wearing thin.

"So what did I do wrong now?" Jess asked tiredly.

Damian waved a hand towards her and said, "Your feet are clumsy, you're too predictable with your hand strikes, and you think too much."

Her brows shot up. "Wow, alright," she muttered under her breath.

It annoyed her, the way he stood there, totally at ease as if he hadn't been sparring for nearly two hours straight. Except for his mask, he was fully dressed in his Robin gear, though they both knew he didn't need it. Jess, on the other hand, was sweating and panting heavily in some old but good, black gear that Selina Kyle had handed down to her. It had taken a while for her to get used to wearing the black leather catsuit that zipped all the way up to her neck, but at least her bruises would be covered.

"Do you need a break?" Damian asked, taking in her exhaustion. "You look like you need one... or two."

She didn't have it in her heart to snap back but she managed to roll her eyes. "Yeah, give me fifteen."

While she slowly made her way over to the bench at the other side of the area, Damian proceeded to practice on the dummy nearby. Although this wasn't the first time she'd seen him in action, it still amazed her that he was so agile and quick. Bruce had said that she had made a lot of progress since beginning her training months ago, but watching Damian fight like it was second nature to breathing certainly made her feel a little less competent.

Well, while Damian could incapacitate with his bare hands, at least she had the power of biological manipulation, right?

Jess almost scoffed out loud thinking about it. She still felt guilty sometimes about the things she'd done in the last year, the horrible diseases and pain she'd inflicted on people's bodies. At the same time, she knew she had to master her powers and better understand them. Bruce had devised ways for them to explore the scope of her link with living things, experimenting to see what kind of healing and damaging capabilities she had.

Massaging at a sore spot on her side, Jess knew she could very well heal her own pain, but she'd made it her personal promise to refrain from doing so. If she really wanted to learn and prove that she could better herself, she didn't want to make it easier by healing her injuries every time her ass got kicked. That would be like cheating... Plus, she had a feeling that Damian would have something to say about it.

"You ready?"

Speaking of the devil, the teen was approaching her. A long staff had replaced the katana at his side and Jess internally groaned. It was her least favorite weapon to spar against.

 _I can already feel the bruises forming_.

With a sigh, she stood from the bench. "Not even a little bit."

Another hour and about a dozen fresh aches and bruises later, they called it quits... or rather, Jess did. She was sore and overworked and it seemed like Damian could sense that her stamina wasn't like his.

"You still have a long way to go," he said after returning the staff to its place.

"No need to remind me," Jess responded briskly, walking out to the main area of the Batcave. Her steps echoed on the metal walkway as she headed past the laboratory and towards the door.

"Something bothering you?"

She looked up to see that Damian had followed her. Pulling off his gloves, he looked at her expectantly.

With a shrug, she replied, "Nope, I'm just… I've got my work cut out for me, I guess." Jess busied herself with taking her own gloves off, not wanting to meet his gaze.

"What exactly are you trying to achieve with all this training?"

Annoyance stung her but she kept her face neutral and looked at him. "What do you mean?"

He crossed his arms and answered, "We've been teaching you combat skills and martial arts for months, but why do you even want to learn?"

She opened her mouth to respond but Damian continued, "And yeah, I know that you told us you wanted to make up for all the bad things that you did, but come on…" He raised a brow. "How is learning to put someone on the ground a form of atonement?"

And this was another example where Jess had trouble deciphering his behavior. Ever since his father had decided to keep her out of jail and put her on a better path, Damian had often been blunt, cold, and sometimes just a downright asshole. She was never sure if he just simply disliked her for whatever reason, or maybe it was his personality; she'd seen how he talked to Bruce (though it was usually worse).

So was the guy just being honest and straightforward, or did he have a problem with her?

With an exasperated sigh, Jess replied, "Look, I'd rather work my ass off in school and in here than go back out there and hurt people. If you really have an issue training me, I'm sure it'd be fine if Bruce taught me on his own."

Damian held his hands up defensively. "Hey, I was just wondering."

"Well, you know what they say about curiosity." She opened the door and left the Batcave, not bothering to hear if she got a response.

Damian was irritating, but Jess didn't know what frustrated her more: his questions or the fact that she didn't have any real answers.

She was walking through the dark-paneled hallways of Wayne Manor, daydreaming of a hot bath, when a voice startled her from behind.

"I'm surprised you haven't grown tired of him."

Alfred Pennyworth was dressed in his usual black and white attire, peering at her carefully. His balding head shone under the lit sconces of the hallway.

"Who?"

"Master Damian, of course," Alfred responded as he approached her. "That boy has always been a handful. It's best to take him in small doses or a few hours at a time."

Jess grinned and shook her head. "Oh, I remember the stories you told me about him. I had been thinking that I couldn't imagine what he was like as a kid, and then you gave me a pretty good idea."

The corner of his mouth twitched with a small smile. "Give him some time and he'll come around. At best, you'll learn to tolerate him."

"Should I even ask how long that'll take? How long did it take for _you?_ "

"Do you really want to know, Miss Fairchild?"

"The suspense is killing me, Alfred."

Alfred paused to think and then responded, "Until this morning."

Jess's eyes bugged in disbelief and she wasn't sure if he was being his usual cynical self or absolutely serious. Before she could ask, the butler threw her a wink and walked away. She was left standing there in the hallway, even more confused.

"Wait... was that a serious answer?" she finally called towards his retreating back.

"Good night, Miss Fairchild," Alfred said without turning around.

Jess took a deep breath. _Well, that's just great,_ she thought before turning to head into her room.


End file.
